


Tell That Devil

by ottersir



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Romance, im having a crap attack, victor is just a stupid rich boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-09-06 12:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20291302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottersir/pseuds/ottersir
Summary: There is a very small town in New Mexico, quite a bit inland, with a population of no more than 40 people. The law is enforced by one sheriff, and his name is Henry Clerval.Not much happens in this small town of his, but when rich boy Victor Frankenstein stumbles in one night, drunk and battered, Clerval's life starts to turn on its head as he realizes that he has no idea what the hell to do with him. Between that and rumors of a murderous giant the next town over, things could only possibly go worse from here.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey there! thanks for clickin on this :) its my first fic so feedback is strongly appreciated and encouraged!! really excited to work on this !
> 
> i'll try to update like twice a week! no idea how many chapters I want but i do know how the story ends, so! i'll try to keep myself writing consistently!
> 
> thanks for reading! <3

In all of his twenty-one years of life, Henry Clerval had never encountered a case quite like this.

Yes, he was young to be sheriff of the little old town, though he had been for quite some time. The job was bestowed upon him at a fairly young age, as his father had never hired a sheriff’s deputy, or even any other policemen. The town was small, and relatively quiet; it was nothing that couldn’t be handled as a one man job.

And yet, one time, it was. Too much for his father to handle, and he died in action. As much “action” you could get from preventing a young woman from being robbed, but nonetheless. Henry’s father was fatally shot that night, protecting his people, as was his job. And, as his son, and only remaining member of his family, the job was settled upon Henry’s shoulders at the ripe age of 16.

Currently, though, Henry found himself sitting outside of a prison cell. The rest of the cells were empty; there had been no real crime in years. The man he’d locked up tonight wasn’t even here for a crime; only locked in until he was sober and could be let go to ensure the safety of the citizens of his small county. It was unusual for anyone to stumble upon this town as it was so far out from the road, much less as a drunk and battered idiot. Henry held a pencil in one hand, a paper atop a book curled into his opposite arm, poised to write.

“What’s your name, boy?” Henry looked up at the scrawny man in the cell before him. He was no older than twenty, no younger than eighteen. Yet his small and battered form implied that he was malnourished; if his face hadn’t looked so worn, and his skin didn’t hug his bones in the way that they did, perhaps he may have mistaken him for a teenager. 

“My name?” The stranger slurred, running a hand through his blondish curls and hiccuping a little. His accent indicated that he was from the North; New England. He slumped against the wall. “My name...my name is Victor. Viicctooorr Fraaankensteinnn,” Victor drawled out with something of a grin, starting to giggle to himself quietly. “Yes! That’s it. Victor Frankenstein.” 

Henry sighed in exasperation, writing his name down the best he could spell it and making a mental note to ask him if it was correct in the morning. He looked up at him again. “And where ya from, Victor?” 

Victor looked puzzled for a moment. “My house?”

Henry stood, furrowing his eyebrows at Victor and rubbing at his eyes wearily. “Well, Victor, you gone and stumbled into my town drunk at two in the mornin’, causin’ a ruckus and waking up some of my people.” He made eye contact with him. “Ya ain’t goin’ anywhere til yer sober.”

Victor blinked at him, eyes widening. Henry sighed and decided that he was too exhausted to do anything more, telling Victor that he would be back in the morning and not to cause too much of a ruckus while he was gone. Once he was home he collapsed into his bed and fell asleep near instantly, already worn out from the previous day’s activities.

___________________________________________

Morning arrived swiftly, and Henry felt as he had just gotten back to sleep. He ate a slice of bread and quickly donned his sheriff’s clothing, his badge, and his hat before riding off towards the police station once again.

It was empty, as usual. Henry was the only person who worked there. He walked in, examining the green painted walls and wooden floors. The sun beamed in through the windows and Henry was greeted with an odd kind of serenity at the scene, as he was most mornings, and then realized that Victor was still locked up in the back, He quickened his pace a little and opened the door to the small hallway, walls made up of purely prison cells.

Victor was in the first cell on his left. “G’mornin’, Frankenstein,” Henry greeted him, unlocking his cell with the keys on his belt. Victor sat in the corner, and started a little when Henry spoke.

“Good morning, Sheriff..?” Victor searched for the name.

“Clerval.”

“Sheriff Clerval. Good morning.”

Henry hummed, opening the cell door and watching Victor slowly raise himself from the floor. “So, I’ll ask ya again, where you from?”

“Boston,” Victor replied, looking a little unnerved. “Massachusetts. Far from here.”

“I know, so what brings ya to a little town down under in New Mexico Territory?” Henry raised an eyebrow at him, leading him out of the cell hallway and sitting him down on a chair in the main office.

Victor visibly shifted, as if made uncomfortable by the subject. “There is nothing left for me up there,” he said quietly, as if embarrassed. “I went where the world took me.”

Henry nodded, crossing his arms and leaning against the back of his desk. “Well, if ya don’t plan on leavin’ anytime soon, and need somewhere t’ go, you can stay on my property.” He gestured with one of his hands as he spoke, quietly looking over Victor. Observing him. “But, ya gotta do somethin’ for me in return.

Victor perked up a little. “Really?” His tone was hopeful, and he seemed to jump in his seat. “What is it you’d like me to do, Sheriff?” He fidgeted with his hands.

Henry thought for a moment, moving his gaze to the window. What needed to be done? He was not stressed often, as crime in town was at an all-time-low, though general household chores were a pain. He could not make Victor be a maid, he supposed, however…

“Take care of my horses.” Henry eyed him, raising an eyebrow at Victor’s shocked expression. “Feed em, brush em, take em out for rides in th’ field ev’ry so often. It is so often a weight on my shoulders that I do last of all, and I’d really love for my sweet horses t’ only get the best treatment.” He watched as Victor’s expression turned from shock, to worry, to acceptance.

“Alright, I can do that,” Victor shrugged a little, his hopeful tone dampened a little. “I have never worked with horses before, though.”

“We can fix that, boy,” Henry chuckled briefly before holding his hand out to Victor for him to shake. “In exchange, I’ll offer ya shelter and food, as long as ya ain’t start any trouble. We got a deal?”

Victor shook his hand, and Henry internally realized how small and delicate his hands were in comparison to his own. “It’s a deal, sir.” Victor gave him an unsure smile, and let go of his hand. Henry turned to leave.

“Well, come on then. We’re going to the stables right now.” He looked over his shoulder at Victor briefly, watching him rise from his chair and stumble over towards him. “Ya ever ridden a horse before, boy?”

“No, never,” Victor shifted uneasily.

“Well then, you’ll have t’ get used to it quick. I’ll help ya get on.”

“What?”

“We’re _ riding _back. Just make sure t’ hold on tight and not fall off, aight?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor sees Clerval's house for the first time!

Victor stood out in the little fenced-in field connected to the stables, petting one of Clerval’s horses in front of him. It was this very horse that he had rode in on three days ago, holding onto the sheriff for dear life. He’d only let himself properly breathe once the horse’s pace slowed to a steady trot.

Clerval had jumped off the horse with ease, giving her a light scratch behind the ear before turning towards Victor. “Aight, boy. C’mon down ‘ere,” He helped Victor down from the horse carefully, shaky legs and all. He had barely recovered before Clerval started to lead him closer to the stable doors.

“Okay, I’ll show ya what t’ do today, but t’morrow mornin’? It’s all you. Got it?” He raised his eyebrows at him, going to open the doors.

“Yes, sir,” Victor had responded, listening and watching Clerval with careful interest as he explained how to brush, feed, and properly take care of his horses. At first, the work was rather strenuous, although to say that it was now easy would be quite the lie. Victor found himself longing for the days when he needn’t raise a finger to have anything he wanted, as the servants in his family’s mansion would get anything he’d asked for at a whim. 

His body ached with the effort of manual labor (the most he’d ever done was carrying textbooks, and even that was a stretch), and he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a sigh. He never recalled it  _ ever _ being so damn hot back home in Boston. Looking up at the sky, there was not a cloud in sight to block the sun, even if only temporarily. He grimaced.

“Frankenstein?” Victor was jolted from his thoughts by the sound of his name in Clerval’s voice, and whipped around towards it. Clerval was looking at Victor quizzically, leaned over the fence with his arms resting on top of it. “What’re ya doin’, just standin’ out there in the sun? All the horses ‘ve gone in.” He gestured towards the open stable doors, and Victor followed the gesture with his eyes. He was right; the horses were inside, and Victor was standing in an empty field.

Victor shrugged a little sheepishly. “I guess I...got caught up in my thoughts. My apologies, Sheriff Clerval.” 

Clerval tipped his hat at him. “No problem, boy. I just wanted t’ make sure ya weren’t givin’ yerself heat stroke out here.” He stood up properly. “Dinner is inside th’ house, if ya wanna come in.” 

“Oh! Oh, thank you, sir,” Victor hadn’t noticed how hungry he was until the mention of food, and nearly jumped at the chance to get some. He quickly made his way to the fence gate and closed it behind him, joining Clerval and walking beside him as they made their way across his property to his house.

It was only then that Victor decided to steal glances at him, at how the sun shone on his face and how he walked with an air of pure authority. Victor thought that maybe, just maybe, this was the most powerful man he had encountered thus far.

The silence grew deafening, though, and Victor grew bored. The house still looked far off to him, and his feet began to ache. It felt like he’d been walking for hours. He had  _ no  _ idea how Clerval had kept up the same pace through all this time.

“So, Clerval…” Victor started, and Clerval acknowledged him with a turn of his head and a raised eyebrow. He took a breath. “Do you have a first name?”

Clerval stopped walking for a moment, seemingly affronted by the question. “Henry,” he responded, and continued to walk at the same pace that he had before. Victor suppressed a groan of exasperation, the relief of not walking anymore being taken away from him all too soon. At least he could keep asking Henry questions to cure his boredom.

“Age?” Victor asked curiously, moving his gaze to the grass as they walked.

“Twenty-one.”

“Why are you sheriff so young?”

“Do ya ev’r stop askin’ questions, boy?” Henry had turned to him then, his tone irritated. “We’re nearly there, don’t make me shut yer trap before we get to the house.” He walked a little faster, to Victor’s dismay.

He would ask him more things later, he decided. Later when they weren’t making the absolute longest trek back to Henry’s house. He deserved to get to know his companion, at least a little bit, since they were living together. It was only fair.

They  _ finally  _ reached Henry’s little porch, a rocking chair on either side of the door. The house was painted a brilliant blue, though it was fading, and seemed as if it had been fading for quite some time. Henry held the door open for him and Victor mumbled a small thank you before stepping in.

Despite staying on Henry’s property for three days, this was the first time that Victor had actually entered his house, since Henry would bring him meals to the stable (as that is where he slept). The interior of the house was a dark wood, with a small kitchen and a few furniture items. Henry was a minimalist, it seemed. There were two cushioned chairs by the fireplace, and a table near the kitchen that had two plates with food on them, which appeared to be steak. Adjacent to the fireplace was a small hallway which led only to a single bedroom and another closed door which Victor could only assume was the bathroom. Or, a kind of bathroom at least.  _ Do they have bathrooms down here?  _ Victor wondered. He could only hope that they did.

The room was dim, only illuminated by a few candles and the fading light of the setting sun. Victor was awed a little at the beauty of the house. “Your house is beautiful, Sheriff Clerval,” he commented softly, still looking around with wide eyes to see if there was anything he had missed. Henry shrugged a little.

“My dad made it like this. I’ve got no real interest in changin’ it,” Henry’s voice trailed off as he strolled into the kitchen, opening the lid of an icebox of sorts and pulling out glass bottles( _ liquor bottles,  _ Victor noted) that had been emptied and filled with water. “Ya want water? Or no drink?” Henry asked, turning towards him with his brows raised and the bottles in his hands.

“Water would be great, thank you,” Victor replied as he moseyed his way over to the table, sitting down in front of one of the plates of steak. Food, finally. After so many hours of hard labor, his stomach was finally being satisfied. He sighed in relief at the feeling of being able to sit in a chair, having to walk no longer.

Henry made his way back over to the table and handed one of the bottles of water to him, sitting down at the other plate across from him and beginning to eat in silence.

“So,” Victor started again, around a mouthful of food, “Again, why are you sheriff so young?”

“Again with the questions, boy?”

“I’m curious, sir.”

Henry took a drink of water. “My father was no longer able t’ hold the position,” he replied crossly, taking another bite of steak. “Ain’t had a deputy either, so’s it was left t’ me.” He looked up then, and Victor noticed that freckles littered his cheeks. “Ya ask this many questions to ya folks back home?” 

Victor’s mood dampened immediately at that, the memory of his siblings and father dead on his floor making him outwardly flinch. He took his last bite of food and wiped his mouth with the handkerchief that was provided to him. “I did,” he looked away and took a last drink of water before standing and pushing his chair in. “I think that I’ll head back out to the stable now, if I may be excused,” Victor shuffled his feet a bit and fidgeted with his hands, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and weary. The urge to curl up in the hay of the stable and sleep was strong.

Henry furrowed his eyebrows, but shrugged a little. “Close the door on yer way out, ya hear?” Victor nodded and closed the door as he’d asked, making his way back towards the stable. It was dark out now, the moon the only light to guide his path back. His thoughts were loud and swam around in his head like sharks, ready to snap at him any second. The image of his sister, Elizabeth, not quite dead but dying surely popped back up in his brain and he shook his head to clear it. He’d left Boston, and he was here now. Far away from all the painful memories that plagued him, that he had caused.

The walk back didn’t seem nearly as long as the walk to Henry’s house, and as soon as his feet hit hay he almost collapsed, curling in on himself and holding his head in his hands. Exhausted from work and the stress of remembering the past, Victor slipped into a light, dreamless sleep nearly instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew! chapter two is done :)
> 
> thanks for the quick support and the bookmark!! my heart melted...gah
> 
> some things to make the story make a little more sense: indoor plumbing was invented in the last 1820's? In Boston, and was reserved for the rich and wealthy of Boston for nearly thirty years. the story takes place somewhere in the mid to late 1800s, and since Victor comes from a rich family up in Boston, it'd make sense for him to be used to indoor plumbing.
> 
> i hope that little history fact was helpful!!! i will update again soon, hopefully tomorrow if i have time!!! thanks for reading <3!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry discovers that Victor is afraid of thunderstorms.

Henry woke with a start, the sound of rain filling his ears. He’d always hated it when it rained, even as a small child. The other boys in town would beckon for him to come outside and play in the puddles and water filled ditches, but Henry would always shy away from them in favor of being clean and quiet. Perhaps that’s why he never had a proper friend.

Routine this morning was the same as any other. Henry brushed his teeth, drank some water, got his sheriff’s gear on, and took a slice of bread from the kitchen before stepping outside his house. A crack of thunder roared over his head. Jesus christ.

He held his hat on his head as we walked across his property, preventing it from flying off with the wind that was whirling at him. Upon arriving at the stable fence gate, preparing to saddle up one of his horses and head into town, he saw a figure, standing stock still in the middle of the field.

“Frankenstein?” Henry called unsurely, taking a few steps forward when he didn’t turn around. “Ya aight there, boy?” He put his hand on Victor’s shoulder and he nearly jumped out of his skin. His eyes were filled with fear.

“Oh, Sheriff Clerval, it’s only you.” Victor rubbed at his eyes, his hair rolling over itself in the wind. “I’m terribly sorry for asking, but what time is it?”

“Eight in th’ mornin’, I’d say,” Henry replied, furrowing his eyebrows at him. “What’re ya doin’, standin’ out here again? And in th’ rain, no less. Come inside,” He urged him, and began walking Victor back towards the stables. The poor boy was shaking like a leaf, with his arms firmly crossed over his chest. 

Victor looked down at his feet as they walked. “Nothing, really,” he murmured softly. “Thunderstorms...have never been good for me.” He laughed humorlessly.

Henry moved his concerned gaze from Victor to the sky. It was dark, despite being morning, and angry clouds loomed overhead. Lightning cracked again and Victor jumped so hard under his hand that Henry almost thought that he had fallen over.

“Just stay inside, then. No need for ya gettin’ hypothermia n’ all that.” Henry released Victor and opened the stable doors for him as Victor mumbled a quiet “thank you” to him once again. He entered with him momentarily. “If ya need anything, or yer cold, feel free t’ go to my house n’ light up the fireplace.” 

Victor turned to him, shaky limbs and all, and gave him an unsure smile. “Thank you, Clerval. I appreciate your kindness.” He then promptly walked away from Henry’s presence to pet one of his horses. 

Henry took that as the end of the conversation and saddled up the horse to his left, hopping on and giving a sharp whistle to get her running. He was prepared for a long day, and could only hope in the back of his mind that the rain let up soon, for Victor’s sake.

  
  


______________________________

  
  


It was around noon, Henry supposed, or maybe a little past noon when a boy walked into his little police station, no older than 16. Henry looked up and raised his eyebrows. “What brings ya in, son? Stop yer panickin’, sit down,” He gestured to the chair in front of the desk, in which the boy promptly sat down, fidgeting around like mad.

“E-excuse me, Sheriff Clerval, I am so, so sorry t’ barge into yer office like this,” The boy stumbled over his words, staring down at the floor before looking up to make eye contact. “B-but somethin’ terrible, just  _ terrible  _ has happened in Atchinson, th’ next town ov’r from here, that’s where I rode in from—”

“Slow down, son! Breathe!” Henry said firmly, tapping his fingers on his desk impatiently. The boy jumped at his tone, looking around frantically and clenching his hands into fists before taking a deep breath, unclenching his fists again, and then resumed talking at a slower and calmer pace. “W-well, y’see, sir, most of th’ town’s citizens have been...murdered.” 

Henry leaned forward, eyes wide. “Murdered?” He echoed, incredulous. “Nearly the entire town, you say?” He was speechless. How could nearly an entire town be wiped flat? Were there rogue cowboys just in the next town over? Nothing  _ ever  _ happened in the little area that the two towns encompassed.

“Y-yes sir, murdered,” The boy affirmed, looking frozen in fear. “A man, he...he’s not from here. He came through, said he was lookin’ for somethin’, someone...when he found out that whatev’r he was lookin’ for wasn’t there, he just…” He trailed off, seemingly on the verge of tears.

Henry stood up and walked around his desk, patting the kid reassuringly on the shoulder. “There, there, sonny boy, yer safe here, in this town. We’ll get ya to the town doctor for yer injuries, n’ the shock, and then ya can decide if ya wanna head back there or not. Sound good?” The boy nodded shakily, and Henry helped him stand. “I ‘preciate the warnin’, boy, thank ya.”

Henry brought him to the town doctor, as he said he would, and left with a promise of a status update the next morning. However, what the boy had told him worried him sick. One man, able to wipe out an entire town? This was no rogue cowboy; this man was a killer. Henry wondered who, or what, he could possibly be looking for, and if his town was the mysterious murderer’s next stop.

These thoughts plagued him until he’d finally arrived back to the stables to put his horse in at sunset, the sky a mix of pink, red, and orange. It had stopped raining long ago, but Victor was nowhere to be found; Henry figured that he’d taken him up on his offer to go into his house for better shelter and warmth from the rain. He felt a little grateful for that, as the thought of having his (permanent?)guest contract hypothermia while on his property was troubling, to say the least. 

Henry trudged his way back through the muddy fields to his home, feeling quite exhausted, and wanting nothing more than to lay down in his bed and go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading through this again!!! <3 that poor kid, huh.
> 
> i am excited for the next few chapters, as they are some of my favorites. stay tuned :) !!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor falls asleep.

As soon as the beating of hooves faded into the distance, Victor was out of the stables. He made his way quickly to Henry’s house again, jumping at each and every crack of lightning over his head. He felt horrible about entering the house by himself; however, Henry had offered, and he was terrified of the storm.

Earlier, Henry had placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, grounding him a little. He reveled in the feeling for the short few seconds that it was there before Henry let go to open the stable doors for him. He kind of missed it.

Victor reached Henry’s house and walked right in, closing the door behind him and heading right to the bathroom door. He grabbed one of the unused towels and started the process of drying himself off, not wanting to wet Henry’s floors. It was true that the sheriff wasn’t there, yes; however, this gave Victor ample time to do a little more exploring and poking around of his own.

As soon as he was sure that he was no longer dripping water, Victor exited the bathroom and went into the small bedroom that Henry slept in. The architecture was the same: dark wood walls and floors. However, a bed was placed in the middle of the room, with a nightstand over to the right of it and a dresser to the far left of the room. There was a mirror on top of the dresser, in which Victor saw himself and smiled. Nice.

He looked at the bed. The urge to lay on it pulled on him against his better judgement. What if Henry found him there? He pondered it for a moment before sitting on top of it, just wanting to examine the sheets and mattress and nothing more.

The sheets were very soft and clean, and had a light floral pattern on them, to Victor’s surprise. They seemed sewn with the utmost care, each tiny petal having the most possible detail. Victor was awed by the dedication.

He moved on to the blanket on top, which was a little heavy and seemed to be made of wool. Oddly, Victor hadn’t seen any sheep around; although, to be fair, he hadn’t been off of Henry’s property so far, so it was possible there were sheep somewhere in this tiny town. He rolled the blanket between his fingers.

Then, Victor gave into the urge and laid back on the bed, hearing the mattress flatten a little below him while adjusting to his weight. He would just lay here for a little, he decided. Just to make sure that the bed was at the utmost sleeping quality for Henry—to see if the bed was comfortable, in general. He didn’t even notice the rain start to die and fall off as he slipped into a light doze, just a few minutes after he had laid down.

______________________________

Victor woke up slowly, opening his eyes and adjusting to his surroundings. This was the best he’d slept in  _ years _ —the bed under him was extremely soft and comfortable. 

Oh, shit.

Victor jolted out of Henry’s bed immediately, looking outside the window. It was no longer raining, and the sky was bright orange. The sun had just begun to set.

Had he really slept in Henry’s bed the entire day? Victor felt dread fill his chest as the thought of Henry finding out filled his brain. He quickly fixed the sheets and blankets back up(as there was no time now to wash them) and hurried out of Henry’s room. He stood idly in the hallway for a moment, deciding whether Henry’s bed looked just as neat and clean as when he had arrived. He had no time to really ponder it, though, because at that moment the front door opened.

“Frankenstein?” Henry called out for him, and he hurried out of the hallway. 

“Hey, Clerval,” Victor greeted him softly. Henry looked tired, with bags under his eyes and a dull expression. 

Henry turned to him then, and took his hat off with a sigh. “Did ya come ‘ere ‘cause of the storm?”

“Yes, I did,” Victor fidgeted with his hands a bit, a nervous habit he wished he could break. “Would you like me to leave?”

Henry shrugged, turning away from him for a moment to put his hat down. The light shone on his hair and Victor realized that he had never seen Henry without his hat before. “I can walk ya back, if ya like.” He turned to Victor again. “Or ya can stay awhile. I don’t care none.”

Victor gave him a small, unsure smile and made his way towards the door. “It’s not a problem! I can walk back by myself, you should rest.” He could see Henry physically relax at the mention of sleep.

“Aight. See ya t’morrow, boy.” Henry yawned and walked down the hallway into his room, and Victor left, closing the door behind him.

The walk back was oddly peaceful. The sun was setting slowly, though the sky was now pink and yellow as opposed to the orange it was when Victor woke up earlier. The grass brushed his ankles as he went along, making Victor smile a little. Everything was just so very quiet and gentle right now.

Victor turned his attention to the sky again. He thought about earlier, seeing the sun shine on Henry’s hair, and how tired those brown eyes had looked back at him. The urge to reach out and touch him had been so strong, then. 

He had already come to accept that he had feelings for Henry, even if Henry didn’t feel the same. The man was big, strong, and hot; he was muscular, had a wide stature, and had cute, wavy hair with freckles that littered his entire face. He was even kind enough to take him in and make sure that he had somewhere to live in this tiny little town, even if it meant on his own property. The thought of it warmed Victor’s heart.

Upon reaching the stables once again, Victor entered and settled down into the hay with a new kind of serenity. The horses were all quiet, most of them already asleep. The sky was nearly completely dark now, and the stars were visible, shining brightly. Victor closed his eyes and curled up with his head in his arms, and his dreams were filled with fantasies of sweet domesticity. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this update took a hot sec!! been busy w school lately heehee
> 
> I'll try to implement a schedule maybe?? In any case, thanks for reading! AND THANK YOU FOR YOUR NICE COMMENTS AND KUDOS AA


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry teaches Victor how to shoot a gun.

Henry awoke early the next morning, getting dressed and ready for another day with haste. He was going to teach Victor how to shoot to defend himself today(since he looked pretty harmless). The rest of the town was iffy about him already, with his northern accent and all, and although he doubted it, there was always a chance one of them could pull a fast one on him.

“Frankenstein?” Henry watched Victor startle as he called him, as per usual. He whipped around from where he stood in the stables, combing one of his horses’ hair.

“Clerval? What are you doing in here so early?” Victor asked, brows raised. His hair was messy and unkempt, and the sun shone on it brightly. He turned to Henry fully, brush still gripped in one hand.

“C’mon, boy, I’m teachin’ ya t’ shoot t’day.” Henry placed a hand on his shoulder(at which Victor startled again) and began to lead him toward the stable doors. He held the door for him again, and Victor hurried outside. He waited for Henry to close the stable doors and catch up to him before they continued at a slow walk down Henry’s property.

“Shoot? Like, a gun?” Victor started again. He looked confused, cocking his head to the side a little bit. ( _ Like a dog,  _ Henry thought to himself.) His eyes were round and wide with curiosity as he looked up at Henry.

Henry averted his eyes then. “Ye, like a gun. Have ya shot before?”

“No,” Victor’s answer was quick, and he looked as if he regretted answering so fast. He cleared his throat. “Why are you teaching me how to shoot, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Henry sighed, stopping his walk once they were some ways into his property. There were glass bottles lined up on the little fence in front of them. “There’s been a massacre next town ov’r. If the murderer comes round ‘ere and I’m not near, I want ya t’ be able t’ protect yerself.”

Before Victor had time to respond, Henry took his pistol from his belt and shot one of the bottles right in the center, causing it to burst into pieces. Victor jumped beside him.

“Here. Do exactly what I just did.” Henry handed Victor the gun, and he just looked at it. “Well don’t just gawk at it, boy! Shoot th’ damn bottle!”

“Okay, okay!” Victor said, panicked, and held his arm up and shot. He turned his head away when he shot the gun, startling at the sound.

“Ya can’t shoot somethin’ if ya aren’t ev’n lookin’ at it! Ya gotta _look!_” Henry groaned in exasperation, and Victor held his hands up in submission with many apologies spilling out of his mouth. 

“Here.” Henry took Victor’s hands and placed them over the gun correctly, holding his fingers over Victor’s. “Yer gonna have t’ hold it with two hands ‘til yer better at it, so for now just hold it like this.” He moved Victor’s arm up and out, and pressed down on his finger to pull the trigger. The next bottle on the fence exploded instantly. “Y’see?”

Victor looked sick. His face was red, and his eyes were wide. “Ya feelin’ okay, boy?” 

“Y-yea! Yes, I’m alright,” Victor said quickly, seeming to come back to life. “Can I try and shoot, myself?” He looked up.

“Sure.” Henry dropped his hands from Victor’s and could’ve sworn he heard him protest quietly, but figured he must’ve imagined it. Victor readjusted his stance and raised his arms, recoiling a bit when he shot the gun. Henry caught him in his arms.

“Easy there, boy. It’s a pistol; it shouldn’t be givin’ ya that much recoil.” Henry stood him up and observed where he had shot. The bottle was still there, but a part of the fence seemed to have been reduced to splinters. He sighed.

“Well, ya didn’t hit the bottle, but ya hit somethin’. That’s a start.” He patted Victor on the shoulder lightly before starting to turn away. “Keep practicin’. Ya need t’ know this if yer gonna protect yerself.”

“Wait, Clerval!” Victor called after him, running up and tugging his shirt gently. “You...you forgot to take your gun back.”

“What else ya gonna practice with? Keep it. I’ve got more.”

Victor looked down at the gun in his hands that Henry had given him with a sudden determination. “Thank you, sir.”

“Just Clerval is fine, boy.”

“Thank you, Clerval.”

Henry waved him off, and began to make his way back to his house. He could hear Victor attempting to shoot the bottles in the background, cursing when he didn’t hit anything, until he was far enough along in his property that the stables were merely a dot in the distance. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on him with its hot rays. Henry wiped the sweat off his forehead with a sigh.

As nice as a bath did sound to Henry right about now, it would do him no good. The moon had not come out yet; thus, there was still more work in town to be done. Only enough time to stop at home for a quick meal, then back to the stables to saddle up his favorite horse and head on down to the police station once again.

Henry entered his house, familiar dark wood creating a refreshing and somehow cooler atmosphere. He took two slices of bread( _ a generous amount, really _ ) and then started out towards the stables again. Even though his time at home was fairly brief, it did restore his spirits, just enough to finish off work for the day.

He wasn’t worried about the murderer next town over. No, there was no way that the man would even survive a day in his town. Henry was the best gun-slinger alive, and he knew. He knew it well.

He was worried, however, about Victor. Small and defenseless Victor, who barely knew what a horse was before he’d stumbled into town. He could only hope that if the murderer  _ did  _ come into town, Victor wouldn’t be the first person he saw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi there!! sorry, i know its been over a week since i updated!! ive been sick :') ive been trying to write a little bit of this chapter every day, and yesterday i fought around with it a bit!!! but i think this is as good as i can get it, haha! (and i dont wanna make my proofreader reread the same chapter w minor edits ehehhe!)  
your comments are always super appreciated, i love replying to you!!! THANKS for the support and hopefully i'll update more frequently!!!
> 
> (feel free to follow my tumblr(ottersLr) and/or my instagram(ottersir_)! theyre where im most active!!)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor goes to the store.

Victor feigned practice until he could no longer hear the heavy steps of Henry in the grass. Then, and only then, did he allow himself to breathe and flush again. “By god, he touched my hands,” He thought aloud, almost giddily, and brought his hands to his face. The feeling of Henry’s hands, way bigger than his own, over his to help him shoot the gun still hadn’t left Victor’s mind yet, and he absolutely melted in it. He knew he was overthinking such a simple and instructional gesture, yet Victor was still swooning over it.

After a moment of practically squealing and bouncing on his heels in happiness, Victor recalled why Henry had insisted on teaching him how to shoot in the first place. _ A murderer next town over, _ he thought to himself. Was Henry concerned for his safety? He _ did _ say that he wanted Victor to be safe when he wasn’t around. Did he _ want _to protect him?

Victor’s thoughts conflicted with each other. On one hand, he wanted to believe that Henry was genuinely concerned about him, his safety, and his well-being. Henry _ wanted to protect him. _But on the other hand, Henry had pretty much implied that Victor was defenseless, to which he took slight offense. He could defend himself! Right?

Victor raised his arms and held the gun exactly as Henry had instructed him to(he could still feel Henry’s fingers over his), closing an eye to aim before pulling the trigger. The sound seemed to hit his ears from all directions, and he startled once again, squeezing his eyes shut and falling backwards onto his butt. He opened his eyes to look at the bottle,

still sitting perfect and untouched on the fence.

“Goddamnit!” Victor yelled angrily, cursing under his breath and kicking at the grass. He stood and dusted himself off, stomping away angrily back to the stables. Whatever. He could learn to defend himself some other time.

He saddled up one of Henry’s stronger horses to ride into town, deciding suddenly that perhaps Henry might be running low on food. He had never seen him bring in any, and despite how much property Henry owned, he had never seen any farmland on it at all. If there was a market in this town, Victor was going to find it, and he was going to buy out the entire store. Or as much as the fifty cents in his pocket would get him.

___________________________________________

At last, Victor arrived at a little market close to the center of town, near the town square. He got off the horse and secured it safely at a nearby livery stable(_ “Be good, ok?” _The horse nudged him in acknowledgement before he left.) before promptly entering the market, ready to shop.

There were loaves of bread, fruits, and even some coolers with meat in them. Victor hadn’t seen this much food since he’d left home. He scampered up to the bread section, checking each loaf for any imperfections.

“Sir?” Victor was jolted out of his rapid looking-over of the loaves by a voice behind him. A girl no older than himself stood there, her hair in a high ponytail and laced with a red ribbon. He raised his eyebrows. “Yeeess?” Victor asked, confused. “Is there a problem?”

“No, no, ‘course not!” The girl held her hands up in submission and laughed nervously. “I just...I’ve nev’r seen ya ‘round here before. What’s yer name?” 

“It’s Victor,” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “Yours?” This seemed...awfully intrusive for a little run-in at the market. 

Then again, Victor hadn’t gone outside if it wasn’t to go to school in the last 19 years, so maybe he didn’t really have a fair judgement of human behaviour.

“It’s Mary-Ann.”

“How pretty.”

The girl nearly swooned at his comment, causing Victor to narrow his eyes. _ Imagine being infatuated with someone you barely know. _Mary-Ann’s face was flushed and she was giggling. Victor returned his attention to the loaves of bread.

“Ah—so did ya just move here?” Mary-Ann asked as soon as Victor looked away. He nodded without looking up.

“Sort-of. I don’t really...live here. I just work for Clerval,” Victor said plainly, smiling a little at the thought of Henry. “I take care of his horses.

“Like...indentured servitude?” Mary-Ann asked thoughtfully, leaning over the little counter the bread was on. She put her head in her hands and looked at Victor with wide eyes.

Victor looked up at her. “Yeah, I suppose so.” Having finally decided on the perfect loaf, he picked it up and began to walk towards the payment counter, grabbing a few apples as well. He sighed when he reached it, seeming to have finally gotten away from Mary-Ann, when she popped up from behind the counter. Victor nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Jesus Christ, what are you doing back there?!” Victor had one hand clutched to his heart, fighting to catch his breath.

Mary-Ann only laughed. “Didn’t ya see me when ya came in? This is my family’s store,” she said with a relaxed smile, looking over the items Victor had placed on the counter. “This all totals t’ twenty cents.”

Victor sighed and dug twenty cents out of his pocket. He only had thirty left. She held out her hand and he dropped the coins into it, picking up his food items in his arms. “Thank you, ma’am,” he addressed her quickly as he was walking out the door, “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Goodbye, Victor!” Mary-Ann called after him. “Come back again!”

“As if,” Victor muttered under his breath. He’d find another market in town, though twenty cents had been a steal. He might not find anywhere else so cheap.

He recovered Henry’s horse again, which cost him another ten cents, and set the food into the little satchel that he had hooked up to the saddle. On the ride back, he spent a long time spacing out into his thoughts, thinking about Henry, Mary-Ann, the murderer, shooting the gun, and Henry again. His thoughts were loud and aggressive, each beating out the other in his head.

When Victor reached the stables, the sky was bright orange, with dark blue at the top threatening to come down on him. He put the horse back into her stall with a scritch to the ear and got the satchel off the saddle, carrying the food carefully back to Henry’s house.

By the time he reached the house, it was even darker, and only a slimmer of orange was left. He stepped up onto the porch and knocked softly.

“Clerval?” Victor called out, pausing his knocks. “Can I come in?”

“Go ahead,” was Henry’s quiet response, and Victor strolled right on in. He found Henry in a chair by the fireplace, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Whaddya need, boy?”

Victor felt himself smile, pulling out the loaf of bread from his bag. He held it out to Henry. “Wanna eat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ACTUALLY FINISHED THIS CHAPTER AND FORGOT TO POST AGSHSB  
THANKS for all your sweet comments!!! Things are about to pick up after this chapter, be ready :)!!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry has a meal.

It was dark outside.

It had been for quite some time, though. Henry sat in comfortable silence in front of the fire with Victor, who had undoubtedly bought him more food out of his own pocket. How had he even known that he was on his last three slices of bread? Henry briefly recalled the conversation that had happened when Victor entered.

-

_ “Wanna eat?” _

_ Victor had a genuine smile on his face, holding the bread he’d gotten out towards him. Henry’s eyes widened in surprise. Did he buy that? _

_ “Vi—Frankenstein?” He tripped over his own words, meeting Victor’s happy gaze with his own. “Where’d ya get that from?” _

_ “The market near the town square, with Mary-Ann in it.” Victor huffed a little at the end of the sentence, though he quickly recovered his pleased expression. “Come on, Clerval. I know you’ve been low on food, right? Let’s go eat, yeah?” _

_ Henry rose from his chair. “Well, I suppose since ya went through all that trouble—”  _

_ “No! No, it’s no trouble at all, Clerval,” Victor said quickly. “Matter-of-fact, let me make you dinner. We aren’t just eating bread slices today.” _

_ “Frankenstein—” _

_ “I insist!” _

_ Henry just looked at him for a moment. Observing the look of determination that was spread across his face. He didn’t look like he would be easily persuaded; but why was he being so insistent now?  _

_ “Well, I’ll be damned, son.” Henry gave a small laugh, and came over to rest a hand on Victor’s shoulder. “Do as ya please, boy. Fine by me.” He squeezed his shoulder gently, earning a smile from Victor before making his way to the kitchen table. Victor followed suit to the kitchen quickly, rummaging around for food items and occasionally pulling some fruits(when was the last time Henry had fruit?) out of his little satchel that he’d brought with him. Henry found himself struggling to stay awake in the dim light of the room, nearly asleep when Victor exclaimed in triumph. _

_ “It’s done!!” Victor bounced a little as he made his way back over to the table. He set the plates down in front of him. “Fruit salad and cooked steak!” _

_ Henry eyed the fruit salad, then looked back up at Victor. “Ya think I’m gonna eat  _ leaves? _ ” _

_ He must’ve been making a face, because Victor erupted into laughter, then. “It’s healthy!” He insisted, hitting Henry’s arm playfully. “And it’s good. I promise.” _

_ “This shit is for horses,” Henry muttered under his breath, causing Victor to laugh again. Victor sat down across from him, beginning to engage him in casual conversation about his day, his job, and anything he could think of. _

_ Henry ate the fruit salad anyway, but only after he finished his steak. _

-

The memory had already become a fond one, and Henry found himself smiling a little. He was full for the first time in a while; and even though the steak wasn’t particularly perfect, it was refreshing to eat fruit again(not that he would admit that). He occasionally caught Victor glancing at him from across the room, the fire lighting up his face and making his eyes sparkle. If Henry turned to look at him at the same time, Victor would get flushed, and rapidly turn his head. He would turn so fast that the chair would move a little. It made Henry want to smile all over again.

“Well, I should be going, Clerval,” Victor murmured after a while, though he didn’t shift to get up. He turned his head fully towards Henry, his curls bouncing a little with the motion.

“Stay a while longer, boy. There ain’t no rush t’ get back to the stables, eh?” Henry surprised himself with his words. It was nice to have company, he supposed. Even if it was just peaceful quiet.

Victor shifted in his chair. “Right,” he said softly, seemingly in thought. He suddenly perked up and looked at Henry again. “Why are you sheriff so young?”

Henry’s head whipped around at that, and he could see Victor visibly startle. The memory of becoming sheriff rushed back at him all too quickly. “Why?” The word had come out more rudely than Henry had intended. Victor flinched.

“I...I was just curious. I’m sorry,” Victor seemed to curl into himself a bit in his chair. Henry huffed softly.

“It’s aight, boy, no need t’ be all scared.” 

“Right…”

Rather than comfortable silence, the air had now turned tense, and Henry felt a pinch of regret somewhere in his gut. He hadn’t meant to sound so intimidating, and now the poor boy was almost trembling in his seat. He sighed.

“C’mon, boy,” Henry stood, making his way over to Victor’s chair and holding out a hand. “I’ll walk ya back t’ the stables.”

Victor looked at him for a moment before taking his hand, pulling himself up and out of his bundle of arms and legs. He dusted himself off. “You don’t need to walk me back, Clerval. It’s alright.”

“It’s the least I can do after ya made me dinner.”

Victor smiled then, and Henry inwardly sighed in relief. So he was no longer uncomfortable, then. Good.

They walked together towards the stables, the moon high in the sky. They were about halfway there before Henry spoke again.

“It’s ‘cause of my father.”

“Pardon?”

“Why I’m sheriff so young,” Henry said with a shrug. His eyes were looking at the moon. “My father, he nev’r appointed a deputy. And when he...when he passed…” Henry stopped in his tracks, clenching his fists and taking a deep breath before continuing. “When he passed...I was sixteen. That’s when the job was passed down t’ me.”

Henry looked over at Victor to see his expression filled with sympathy. “Oh, Clerval,” Victor murmured, placing one of his hands on Henry’s upper arm. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, boy, ya asked, and ya shall receive.” Henry sighed, gently removing Victor’s hand from his arm before continuing to walk once again. “It’s been years, I ain’t got no right t’ be upset.”

“It’s okay to be upset about it. It was your father, you know. That can really hurt someone,” Victor reassured him softly, turning to look at him briefly before focusing his attention forward again.

The rest of the walk was silent after that, save for the sound of their shoes in the grass. They reached the stables, and Henry opened the door for Victor. Before he walked through, he stopped in front of Henry.

“Thank you for having me, Clerval,” Victor gave a small smile, his blue eyes glittering in the moonlight. 

Henry put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed briefly. “Thank ya fer the food, Frankenstein.”

There was a beat where neither of them moved, only met eyes and stared for a moment. Victor cleared his throat and began to walk through the stable doors.

“Goodnight, Clerval.”

“Goodnight, Victor.”

Henry could barely hear the surprised “Victor?” from behind him, but he had already begun to walk down his property once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOHOO!!! QUICK UPDATE!!!! WOHOO BABEY YEAH!!!!
> 
> I got inspired by all the new fics in the clervenstein tag lately gah to write a new chapter early, so here you go!!!! :3!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor is in too deep.

Victor awoke to sunshine in his face and the sound of birdsong, stretching in the hay he was laying in. His eyes fluttered open and he sneezed; it was a bit colder than usual, just a reminder that fall, and eventually winter, was arriving quickly. He dusted himself off and made his way to the horse nearest to him, beginning his morning routine of brushing, feeding, and walking.

The previous night’s endeavors rushed back to him as soon as the haze of sleep had left, and Victor felt his cheeks heat up. Henry had called him by his first name...by his  _ first name!  _ He fought the urge to bring his hands to his face and swoon. This  _ had  _ to be a sign of intimacy, right? Was this where he could draw the line? Did...did Henry…?

He was cut off from his thoughts by the horse whinnying at him, and he realized he’d been brushing the same spot repeatedly for a minute or two. “Sorry, girl,” Victor murmured, leaning up to scratch the horse behind the ears. She seemed satisfied.

Victor made his way across the barn to the next horse, smiling and humming happily. This was the best thing that had ever happened to him since coming down here. The sound of his name in Henry’s voice was playing on repeat in his head.  _ Victor, Victor, Victor— _

“Frankenstein?” 

Victor was jolted out of his thoughts and whipped around, greeted with Henry standing in the doorway of the barn. “Y-yes?” He stuttered, face flushed. 

Henry closed the barn doors and approached Victor, eyebrows raised slightly. “You were dancin’.”

“Was I?” Embarrassment coursed through Victor’s veins. He was dancing? His previous thoughts returned to him and he flushed harder. “I, ah, hadn’t noticed.”

Henry sighed and looked up at the horse Victor had been working with. “Dancin’, bouncin’. Ya was doin’ somethin’, that’s fo’ sure.” He stepped closer and put a hand on Victor’s shoulder; Victor swore Henry could feel his pulse speed up. “I’m goin’ into town again t’day, are ya comin’ along?”

Victor looked up at him, meeting his eyes. Those warm brown eyes, like swirls of chocolate; He could see himself reflected back in them, and his breath just barely caught in his throat. God, those eyes. Those eyes.

Victor was yanked from his thoughts once again by the sound of Henry calling his name. He blinked away his affectionate thoughts, looking up at Henry with wide, apologetic eyes and a reddened face. “Yes, yes, I’ll come, I’ll come.”

“Good.” Henry seemed satisfied, walking towards the barn doors and waiting for Victor to join him, which he did with haste. They didn’t make it very far out of the door, though, when a boy came running up to them, gasping and panting for breath.

“Breathe, son, ya look like ya ran all th’ way here from th’ center o’ town.” Henry patted the boy on the shoulder. He looked no older than thirteen.

“I did, sir. I did.” The boy breathed, looking as if he was about to take off again. “It’s—it’s him, Sheriff. Tha murderer. From tha next town ov’r, he’s headed down ‘ere. He’s lookin’ for him,” He pointed a finger at Victor, and his stomach dropped. He was looking for  _ him? _ There was no way. He didn’t know anyone down here, and the only person he knew who wanted him dead was…

No.

Henry rubbed the boy’s back. “Go back t’ town, son. Take tha back way around my house. I’ll take care o’ it.” The kid nodded and then took off again, in the direction of Henry’s house.

Victor began to back away, back towards the safety of the stables. If this was who he thought it was(God forbid), then there was no way he could be seen. No way. He might hurt Henry. He might—

“Where ya goin’, Frankenstein?” Henry looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. “If this man is lookin’ for ya, maybe ya can talk to ‘im—”

“No, no. No. I can’t. I can’t, Clerval, I just can’t,” Victor’s fear heightened and he scampered into the stables, shutting the doors as quick as possible and leaning against the wall. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Victor took a few deep breaths. Calm. He wasn’t looking for Henry, he reassured himself. Henry wouldn’t get hurt. Right?

He turned to look through the spaces in the wood. Henry still stood in front of the stables, looking out towards the town. Victor shuddered in fear as he saw a figure in the distance approaching slowly. He shuddered harder as the figure became more clear.

He watched with wide eyes through the slats in the wood of the stables as the man who’d killed all his living family— _ Richard,  _ he thought fleetingly—made his way to where Henry stood. He shook with fear. He couldn’t lose Henry too. No way.

Richard stopped maybe ten feet in front of Henry. Henry’s back was to Victor, but he could still see him shift his weight. Despite his height, Richard was still much taller than Henry, maybe a head or two taller. Henry had his hand on his gun.

“Sir,” Henry greeted, but there was no friendliness in his tone. Richard simply dipped his head in acknowledgement. “What is it that brings ya t’ my tiny ol’ town down under?”

“I am looking for someone by the name of Victor.” The sound of his name in Richard’s voice made him jump, even from his place safely secured in the stables. His tone was just dripping with malice. “I’ve been told that he is being housed here.”

“Who’s askin’?” Henry’s tone was guarded, and he shifted his stance to be a little more defensive. 

“Richard,” He replied, drawing his gun. Victor inhaled sharply, holding his breath. This couldn’t be the end of Henry, his dear friend, his  _ only  _ friend. 

Were they friends?

“Well, Richard,” Henry began, “I don’t know what ya want with Victor, but I ain’t givin’ ‘im to ya. He lives ‘ere now; a citizen of the town. He has my protection now.” He finished, drawing his gun as well. Victor’s heart warmed at his words. Even if this was just Henry doing his job, he could pretend that maybe, just maybe, Henry was protecting him because he cared.

However, the warmth in Victor’s heart was short-lived and was quickly replaced with dread when he heard the sound of a gunshot. Was Henry hit? He felt his heart stop and then start again as he realized what he saw. Two objects had flown off to the sides of them, and no one appeared to be hit.

Henry had split the bullet.

“You’re a fine gunslinger, sir,” Richard complimented, though it was far from genuine.

“That, I am,” Henry affirmed. “And if I  _ ev’r  _ see you round here again, comin’ for Victor or any o’ my citizens, I’ll make sure I don’t miss next time.”

Victor let out the breath that he’d been holding as Richard started to back up, but not before giving some half-assed threat to Henry. He was overjoyed, terrified, and impressed; so many things had happened at once and he was having trouble processing it all. A wave of relief crashed over him when he saw Henry walking back to the stables, unharmed.

Once Henry entered, Victor ran up to him, just barely having enough self control not to throw himself at Henry. “You...you protected me, Henry!” Victor smiled wide and genuine, not even caring that he’d just referred to him by his first name. A field of warmth bloomed in his chest, and he wanted nothing more than to embrace Henry right then and there. “T...thank you!”

Henry didn’t say anything for a moment, seemingly surprised by Victor’s overly positive reaction, then furrowed his eyebrows. “Ya live here. Ya belong t’ my town. And I protect my citizens,” Henry said simply, putting a gentle hand on Victor’s shoulder and squeezing gently. Victor felt like he was on cloud nine.

“On second thought, I don’t think ya should come t’ town with me t’day. If that man’s still roamin’ around here somewhere, I don’t want ‘im t’ get to ya.” Henry removed his hand and Victor missed the contact sorely. “Stay here ‘til I’m back, aight?”

“Of course, Clerval, of course.” Victor nodded enthusiastically, waving a little as he left and plopping himself down into the hay. He giggled and brought his hands to his face, smiling wide. Henry protected him. God, Henry. Victor could not contain the happiness running through his veins. He took a nap with the thought of Henry’s eyes and Henry’s voice and Henry’s hands and everything that just made Henry who he was.

He was in so deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAAAA GUESS WHOS BACK...ME. OTTERSIR.  
SORRY FOR THE SUPER LONG HIATUS!! Been super busy with art and school lately, gah...  
However, I'm back now babey!! And I'm ready to do this >:3 I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it!!! <3 I always love writing Victor, hes so stupid  
More coming soon, I promise!


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